Trouble in Paradise: A Violet Darger Novella by L.T. Vargus & Tim McBain

Author:L.T. Vargus & Tim McBain [Vargus, L.T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fbi thriller, Crime, police procedural
Publisher: Smarmy Press
Published: 2021-09-16T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 12

Darger woke to the ear-piercing song of some kind of bird right outside her window. She’d left it open overnight to let in some of the breeze coming off the water. But now the air was humid and muggy, and some of that morning moisture had seeped inside. Already she could feel the hair clinging to the back of her neck.

She closed the window and checked the weather app on her phone. The forecast was ten degrees hotter today compared to yesterday. She understood now why a lot of the tourists here, like Lesley Milano, dressed in gauzy, breezy things.

In the bathroom, she brushed her teeth and got dressed. She plucked at the back of her cotton button-up shirt, peeling it away from the light sheen of sweat on her lower back. She hated being sweaty. Hated the sticky feeling in her armpits and along the band of her bra. Hated feeling wetness beading along her top lip. She bent over to roll up her pantlegs a few inches, regretting for once that she didn’t own a pair of shorts.

To make matters worse, her hair was a rat’s nest of frizz from the humidity. She tugged it back into a ponytail, thinking bitterly that she was only ever this self-conscious around Owen.

She skulked out to the open kitchen/dining/living room area. Spinks was at the small dining table with a cup of coffee. Darger spotted the half-full carafe on the counter and felt a momentary jolt of positivity. Coffee. That would make her feel less pissy this morning.

But as soon as she lifted the pot and saw the steam coiling out of the lid, it occurred to her how unappetizing a hot beverage sounded just now.

She replaced the carafe.

Someone knocked at the door, and Darger went to see who it was.

Owen stood on the threshold with a paper bag and a beverage carrier with four iced coffees.

Darger wanted to weep with joy.

“Figured it was one of those days where it’s too hot for anything but iced coffee,” he said, handing the bag to Darger. “I brought bagels, too.”

Loshak came out, hair still wet from his shower. Darger studied his cargo shorts, annoyed again that she’d only brought pants and would now suffer the consequences.

Darger sliced two bagels and filled the four slots of the toaster, handing them out when they were golden brown, and starting two more.

“I’m gladder than ever that y’all came down here, because after my interview with Beethoven last night, I don’t have a lot of confidence in the locals,” Owen said with his mouth half full of bagel.

“What happened?” Darger asked.

“Well he spent most of the two hours I was down there trying to get me to say that Sully admitted to killing Micaela.” He pitched his voice to sound like the Deputy Chief and added a lilting Dutch accent to the words. “‘Now, Mr. Baxter, this man was carrying a tremendous weight on his shoulders. I think he would have wanted to unburden himself on someone.

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